The Cost of Victory
by Foxlight the Dragon Trainer
Summary: Hiccup was the first Viking to ever kill a Night Fury. But the cost of his victory was far too high. Short little one-shot, from three different point of views. Rated T for character death.


Hiccup panted as he pushed the wood and metal contraption through the midst of the battle, dodging armed Vikings and bursts of fire. "Yeah, I know..." he called back as some of the warriors yelled at him to go back inside, or that it wasn't safe for him to be out. "Be right back!"

The ground sloped just barely uphill, but it was enough to make Hiccup's scrawny arms ache once he put his machine down on the ground in the middle of a field, overlooking the ocean. He opened up the top of the contraption with a grunt, sliding the wood aside, lifting up a metal bar, pushing a small panel on the side, snapping the main part into position. In a second Hiccup stood behind a fully-loaded killing machine.

A roar echoed around the land, and Hiccup caught sight of a dark shape against the starry sky. He crouched down, taking aim.

The distinctive scream of the Night Fury filled the air as it destroyed another lookout tower, and Hiccup released the weapon, launching it in the direction of the dragon. It spun into the air, missing the Night Fury by only a few feet. It screeched angrily, circling away from the village. Hiccup quickly reloaded his catapult- he had brought extra nets because he had fully expected to miss. At least, on the first shot.

The skinny boy crouched behind the contraption just as another loud roar split the skies. He gasped as he spotted the Night Fury, a lot closer to the ground than he had expected. Hiccup's green eyes widened and he took aim as he realized that the Night Fury was flying directly at him, a scream of anger echoing through the clear night air.

Both the Viking and the dragon shot at the same time.

This time, the rope spun out and collided with the dark shape, tangling its wings and bringing it down to the ground. Unfortunately for Hiccup, the Night Fury let loose a huge ball of white-hot fire just before the netting had hit it.

Hiccup didn't even have time to move before it was upon him. He saw a blinding flash of white light, felt something like the heat of a thousand suns, heard his father's heart-wrenching cry of "Hiccup!"

And then it was all over.

* * *

The Night Fury let out a high screech as the ball of fire shot from its mouth, hitting the flimsy tower and reducing it to ashes in an instant. It felt a solid satisfaction at hearing the little humans' yells and shouts as they ran for their lives.

Suddenly, the dragon felt something just barely graze the tip of its wing. It spun around angrily, realizing that something had shot at it. Its green eyes fixed on something moving on the ground below, and it made out the shape of a scrawny little Viking, staring up at it and standing next to some sort of weapon.

The Night Fury narrowed its eyes. The tiny, weak human down there had shot at him? He had missed, but only barely. And by the looks of it, he was planning to shoot again.

The black dragon didn't usually kill Vikings directly. It preferred to shoot at the buildings, thinking that the humans weren't worth its time. It left that job to the other dragons raiding the island.

But for this time, it figured a small exception could be made.

It knew, just as it knew that it was the most powerful dragon to ever raid the island, that the little human wouldn't live to see another day.

The Night Fury soared up into the sky with its signature screech. Thrusting itself forward with a flap of its giant, scaly wings, it flew like a speeding arrow at the Viking, a burst of fire building up in its throat.

A loud snapping noise came from the machine on the ground just as the Night Fury launched its fire at the boy. Its eyes narrowed in satisfaction to see the speeding ball of flame about to hit the boy, but that feeling was wiped away as something collided with the dragon.

It roared furiously as the weighted net tied its wings back and it plummeted to the ground, a horrible feeling in its chest. The Night Fury was upset, confused, and most of all, angry. Not even the sight of the fireball directly hitting the small boy, incinerating him immediately, could raise its spirits.

It collided painfully with the ground, the ropes cutting into its skin. There was a deep gash near the back of the dragon's neck, where the sharpened rocks had struck.

It moaned softly in agony, its eyes half-closed. Darkness pushed on the edge of its vision, threatening to overwhelm it. The Night Fury saw a larger human run over to the scorched piece of earth where the boy had been standing only seconds ago. He cried out something that the dragon couldn't understand.

The Night Fury moaned again, closing its eyes. Blood flowed freely from the wounds on its neck and all over its body.

With one final sigh, the Night Fury, unholy offspring of lightning and death itself, gave in to the darkness. Its body went limp and the creature knew no more.

* * *

Stoick sighed as he watched his son dash through the crowds, pushing some sort of wooden contraption in front of him. He didn't know what it was, and he didn't really care. "Don't let it escape!" he called out to a few other warriors, who were pinning down a Monstrous Nightmare.

One of them nodded. "Right!"

Stoick jogged to the field where Hiccup was crouched behind his machine, staring up at the sky. He saw something fly out from the contraption, and an angry roar echoed across the land.

The distinctive whistling scream of the Night Fury filled the air, and a dark shape hurtled towards Hiccup. Stoick's eyes widened as he truly realized the danger his son was in.

There was a snapping noise as Hiccup's machine fired. The weapon struck the dragon straight-on, but Stoick barely noticed its angry screech as it plummeted to the earth below.

Time seemed to slow down as Stoick's eyes followed the fireball, aiming directly at his son.

"Hiccup!" Stoick cried, racing forward, urging his legs to move faster. But he was too late.

The blast of white-hot fire hit the ground with the sound of an explosion.

"No!" Stoick ran towards the place of impact, searching desperately for his son. Once the smoke cleared, Stoick gasped.

There was nothing there but scorched earth. Not even a body.

Stoick's shoulders sagged as the truth fully hit him.

Hiccup was dead.

The chief slowly turned and walked over to the downed Night Fury, his fists clenching in anger. The Night Fury had killed his son. His only son. He wanted to find a spear and drive it through the beast's heart, wanted to hear its last cry of agony, wanted to see it suffer. But looking closer, Stoick saw the gash in the back of the dragon's neck, and realized that the creature was unnaturally still.

_Hiccup killed a Night Fury_, Stoick realized. _And a Night Fury killed Hiccup._

He laughed humorlessly in his head. _Little scrawny Hiccup. Killing a Night Fury. Who would have thought it? Definitely not me. _

But it was true. Hiccup, the son of Stoick the Vast, was the first Viking to ever kill a Night Fury.

But the cost of his victory was far too high.

* * *

**Please don't hate me for killing both Hiccup and Toothless!**** I love them both! I was re-watching the movie, and I just thought, "What if..."**


End file.
